A Taste of Her Own Medicine
by HecateA
Summary: If the dead see what they want to see and the mortal see what they want to see... what about immortals? Oneshot.


**Minor House of Hades spoiler if you're into magic and the Mist. **

**Anyways, this is irrelevant considering how much everybody's just anxious for some House of Hades related material- but **

**a) My account my rules**

**b) I like the idea. **

**c) Realistically, there is no way that you understand how loudly I screamed when Hecate appeared in the books. _I have been waiting for years she is my favourite and she was just as BAMF as can be expected._**

**I strongly suggest that you_ don't_ read this if you haven't read _Son of Magic_ by Haley Riordan. I will not be answering stupid questions in the reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Heroes of Olympus.**

* * *

**A Taste of Her Own Medicine **

* * *

_Last night, during her talk with Hazel, Piper had realized that the secret of charmspeak was a lot like using the Mist…Piper decided she shouldn't focus on making people do what she wanted. She needed to push them to do the things they wanted_

_-The House of Hades_

* * *

Dr Claymore's face melted when he saw the woman in the doorframe.

"Lady H-Hecate," he stuttered. He'd come to recognise Alabaster's mother despite her costume changes. Today she wore a black gown with glittering folds in the skirt and wide, slit sleeves exposing her morbidly pale skin. She looked Medieval, and just like her people had been persecuted during those times, her face was gaunt and stretched and marked with coal and burns and cuts. It was one of the forms that Claymore appreciated much less.

"Hello Claymore," she said as he scrambled to his knees."I've come to see Alabaster. It is important."

"Is this new location unsafe, Milady?" Claymore worried.

"No, no. It's rather clever actually. Harbour yourselves in Salem- no monster would guess it…"

Every time Hecate said something in the likes, Claymore could nearly hear her say _Lamia _instead. _Lamia. Lamia would never guess that this is where her biggest prey is. _It made Claymore shiver- now more than ever.

"Well, your son is out at the moment," Claymore said nervously.

The goddess cocked an eyebrow.

"Out?"

Claymore nodded.

"And you are not _with _him?" Hecate said angrily.

His heart beat out of control as he scrambled for an excuse. It burst when he found one, the date on the calendar suddenly coming back to him.

"David died ten years from today," he said nearly too quickly for it to be understood. "Alabaster does mourn his father, you know."

Hecate's shoulders slacked. Cold as the goddess was, she _had _fallen in love with David Torrington just long enough to have a son with him. In an immortal's life it wasn't long at all, but it did mean something.

"I see," Hecate said.

"He insisted on being alone for a few hours," Claymore said.

Hecate frowned. "How is he to reach you if something goes wrong?"

"Like you said yourself, Milady," Claymore said regally. "Salem is a safe location for the moment. Also I am home bound until he comes home, just in case, and have a set hour at which he is to come back, lest I start to worry."

The goddess didn't relax (thanks to the Mama Bear Effect), but she did leave after giving Claymore strict instructions to tell Alabaster to send her an Iris Message first thing once he got home.

* * *

"Yes Mother," Alabaster said robotically.

"Your home state is the first place where you will be looked for," Hecate said. "Get out of Maine and never come back, do you understand?"

"Yes Mother," Alabaster answered again.

"Thank you," Hecate said. She seemed genuinely worried about this- she was toying with the black ribbons tangled in her hair, and Claymore had never met a more poised being than she was.

Claymore's forehead was beading with sweat. The conversation had to end.

"Will that be all, Mother?" Alabaster asked.

Hecate blinked, surprised. "Why… why yes, Alabaster."

"May I be excused, Mother? It is rather later."

The goddess wasn't any less startled. "You may. Good night."

"Good night."

Alabaster walked into his room and left a very relieved Claymore with a very perplexed magic goddess.

"Where is he off to so early? Certainly not to sleep."

"I would guess that he'd be reading," Claymore shrugged.

"Oh yes," Hecate nodded. "Odd. I can usually rely on Alabaster for a more fruitful, enlightening conversation... Unless he is angry at me."

"Perhaps his book of the moment is excellent," Claymore said. "Or his nightmares have been disrupting his sleeping pattern. Moreover, he may simply be hormonal."

That made the goddess smile. "Alabaster? Touched by something as mundane as hormones?"

"I assure you that it _is _possible," Claymore said.

Hecate smiled. "A ridiculously mundane possibility…"

* * *

Claymore switched the shower on, closed the bathroom door and opened the front door to let Hecate, today clad in her usual black robes, in.

"How long have you been in this hotel room?" She said, crinkling her nose as she looked around the room. The sheets were on the floor, backpacks were thrown across the room and half-emptied the television blasted the best plays from last night's various sport events (maybe overkill) and empty fold-up paper containers, bags of chips and soda cans lay here and there.

"Only a night, I'm afraid," Claymore said. "It is rather messy…"

"As long as the sloppiness doesn't extend to the boy or his safety, I don't… mind." Hecate said. "He is in the shower as we speak, is he not?"

"Yes. You are welcome to wait until he…"

"Oh, no. It isn't urgent. I trust that he's doing well?"

"Very much so, Milady," Claymore said nervously.

She nodded and looked around the room.

"Is this all his mess?"

"Yes, ma'am," Claymore said.

Hecate smiled a bit. "Just like a regular boy…"

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

"Alabaster, green is a very nice colour on you."

Claymore froze. Oh no. A mistake. An enormous mistake. Alabaster despised the colour green. Colours in general, as a matter of fact, seemed to repulse him. His wardrobe was entirely black, without counting the dashes of silver (that usually came in the form of weaponry anyways).

"Thank you Mother." Alabaster said. Hecate sized him up again.

"It's good to see you in something a little more… lively."

"Is it really, Mother? I will keep that in mind," Alabaster said.

* * *

"I thought that you'd said that he would be home by ten," Hecate said pacing the living room of the vacant apartment he was borrowing. Her robes twirled around her feet and rode up to expose her buckled boots. The goddess hated to wait, but Alabaster had a long history of shrouding himself from gods when he did not want to be found- his own mother included.

"That _is_ the curfew I gave him."

"Why is he not respecting it?" Hecate asked impatiently.

"For the same reason I was told to stay home, I reckon," Claymore said.

"Being?" Hecate interrogated.

Claymore bowed his head. "We've dwelled in New Orleans very long, Milady… the pre-existing magical presence provides your son with superb camouflage."

"Yes, I'd imagine so," Hecate said. "And?"

"And he _has _grown to know a few mortals. Some residents of the neighbouring condos, the regular coffee shop and grocery store employees, the security guard, librarians… high-schoolers who volunteer at the library…"

Hecate's eyes popped like _drachmas._

"What is her name?" The goddess asked.

"He was very secretive. I think it is Clara."

"Clara," Hecate said rolling the name in her mouth as if it was of primordial importance. She tossed it out the window and asked, "What is she like? Tell me about her Claymore, tell me."

"Do not worry, Milady. I have made sure that she is a safe association for him-nor monster, nor mature spirit, nor…"

"Tell me about her, Claymore," Hecate pressed on.

"Oh," Claymore said. "She's very average, in my opinion, but Alabaster holds her in high opinion. Her hair is blond- yellow, nearly, the colour of honey. It curls endlessly and tightly. Her eyes are such a bright green; I'd begun my investigation by associating her with nature spirits."

"She volunteers at the library?" Hecate inquired.

"She does. She reads many of the same books as Alabaster does, they follow the same series... Their favourite are the same, as well as most of their views. She, in fact, has many buttons pertaining to the subject on her backpack."

Hecate's severe glare told him that he couldn't stop talking now, and so Claymore's heart simply continued breaking as he described (and invented) a very charming young girl who did not exist.

* * *

The table fell to the ground. Wood splintered by the impact's sheer force. An empty glass exploded into shards, each splitting into smaller pieces that eventually looked more like dust than anything. A book fell sideways; its pages would be bent horribly by the time Claymore picked it up. He didn't think that that would be anytime soon. Hecate was furious.

"A fool," she said. "I looked like a _fool. _Being the only one in the Council unaware… _completely _unaware…_" _

"That was far from my intentions, Milady," Claymore managed to choke (or more like whine) out.

Her fist hit the hotel room's wall.

"How?" She demanded.

"Lamia, Milady."

"No," Hecate roared. "How did you possibly manage to trick me so?"

"It was hard," Claymore said. "Being a Mistform myself, creating and controlling one was difficult -especially one realistic and powerful enough to… well…" He didn't finish his sentence and let the words die in his mouth. _One realistic and powerful enough to fool the magic goddess herself… Especially a Mistform of someone that she knows so well, someone she brought into the world and sponsored and favoured and taught…_

But he did apologise. That was easy. It was something that he'd been holding in for months- for the entire duration of the Gaean War. He was so, so sorry. Every day, every night, every lie, every truth hurt now.

"How?" The goddess repeated, stunned. She wore white robes with alchemical symbols and strange alphabets, just as she had when he had first met Hecate. She'd been praying then. She looked as if she'd like to pray. At a complete loss...

"To control the Mist, you need to show somebody what they want to see- what they expect to see," Claymore said. She looked impatient. She knew this. "And… Lady Hecate… there are very few things that you wanted more than Alabaster living a long, happy life like a regular boy. It was very easy to make you think that he was still alive."

This Hecate had known, but not conscientiously. She had only known it deep down, and the realisation brought the goddess to her knees.


End file.
